


I am thankful to have met you

by thesweetpianowritingdownmylife



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Essek Thelyss, Conversations, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Trans Essek Thelyss, background fjorclay, tags updated with every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesweetpianowritingdownmylife/pseuds/thesweetpianowritingdownmylife
Summary: Now that peace has been declared, things are finally calm in the Dynasty. With the return of the second stolen beacon, perhaps Essek can relax at last, and work on mending his relationship with his only friends.--Or, Essek has a private conversation with each member of the Mighty Nein.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Essek Thelyss, Essek Thelyss & Fjord
Comments: 16
Kudos: 117





	1. Caduceus

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be an entry for Essek week, for the prompt Loneliness/Friendship, then it became a way for me to write down how I think tm9 feel individually about Essek, and then it ran out of control. I have written over 20k words for it and I'm not finished editing. Help.  
> I plan on updating this regularly, once a week at the very least, with maybe closer updates if I get enough motivation. I am depressed as fuck due to the state of the world. Please cheer me up with comments and kudos.

He appears soundlessly on the edge of the dormant volcano. He had been able to scry on the location beforehand, but even so, it has taken him two attempts. He wipes the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, a memento from his first attempt, and uses _Prestidigitation_ to rearrange his clothes and hair into something more presentable. The damage he sustained is minimal, so he decides against using a potion. After all, he does not expect to be in any danger this evening, although he might be wrong. The looks that some of the Mighty Nein leveled at him on their last meetings were decidedly hostile, but he suspects they would not want to upset Jester in such a momentous occasion for her. Besides, if he has his way, he will only be dealing with Caduceus, and he cannot imagine the mild-mannered firbolg to be too much of a threat to him.

His doubts about the suitability of the location have been more or less assuaged. His research has told him that this volcano has been inactive for thousands of years, and looking at his current surroundings, it is quite apparent. The whole island has been taken over by trees, covering the edges and sides of the crater as if with a soft, green blanket. The sound of owls and other nocturnal creatures, starting to wake from their daily slumber, fills the air. The sun has hidden over the horizon, and the sky, not completely dark yet, is spotted with scattered stars. The crater resembles a valley, with a nice meadow covered in light green grass and thousands of flowers, and at the center of the meadow there is…a building?

Essek narrows his eyes. He cannot make it out at this distance, so he glides closer. As he approaches, the shape becomes more defined, although no less confusing. One could call it a cottage, although it is massive, with many irregular stories and windows, and it does not look man-made. The best way that Essek can define it, it’s as if a tree had been ordered to grow in the shape of a house, or perhaps many trees had been combined, tamed and braided, to form the wonky walls. Only the one responsible to oversee the work had possibly never been in front of a cottage in their life, and had only read about them from books. The roof is a massive green canopy of leaves, vaguely pointed, and the windows are thick and yellow; as Essek comes closer, he can see they are made of amber. There are flowers everywhere, growing on the wooden bark as they are on the meadow’s ground, and arranged in…curious shapes, to say the least. Crude ways might be more accurate. Essek is not surprised at the decorations; he had found similar ones in the patterns of his parasol, and on the pages of Jester’s sketchbook on the rare opportunities he has had to peruse it.

The main door is arched and intricately decorated. It is reminiscent of the drawing in Jester’s pamphlet, although it looks much more impressive in carved form. Essek knocks on it, but when there is no response, he tries the handle. It opens easily to reveal a wide room, not unlike that of a common inn. The difference is in that the tables and benches seem to have sprouted from the floor, and the sitting spots are covered in soft moss. It is empty except for an old, bent-over gnoll who looks at him suspiciously from over the rim of the massive cup of ale he is nursing.

For lack of a better option, Essek decides to address him. “Excuse me, would you be so kind as to tell me where I could find Caduceus Clay?”

The gnoll takes a long sip and belches. “Is that the pink cow man?” he asks in a gruff voice.

His accent is Xhorhassian, from Asarius, if he’s not mistaken. He could intimidate him with his station, make him regret the disrespect he is showing him, instill a bit of fear of being arrested for worshipping a deity that isn’t the Luxon. He dismisses it, as it is not worth the trouble. “Yes, that is who I’m looking for.”

“Your best bet would be the kitchen. Or he’s just conked out already, fuck me if I know.”

Essek grits his teeth, smiles politely. “Thank you for your help.”

He confidently enters the door next to the bar, only to find himself in a corridor with many doors, and two sets of stairs, one going up and one going down. He tries some of the doors unsuccessfully, and peers down and up the stairs for a clue, to no avail. He walks back to the main room, projecting an aura of serenity to hide his irritation. “And where would that be, if you would be so kind?”

The gnoll laughs, a high, hyena-like sound that grates on his nerves. “Not a fan of the floor plan, are you?” He’s still laughing as he takes another sip, and he chokes on it, coughing as sputtering. He gives himself some violent pats on his chest before continuing. “Down the stairs, straight until the third door, then to the right, then down the stairs again, then enter the second door, then upstairs, then through the fifth door and through three rooms, and then to the left should be the door to the kitchen.”

Essek stares at him blankly for a long minute.

He raises his hands innocently. “I’m not fucking with you. But I might have forgotten some of the steps, so you’d do good to pray to the Traveler for some guidance.” He laughs again, and Essek slams the door behind him as he leaves, but it’s not enough to cut off the sound completely.

Although he has retained all of the instructions, he is one hundred percent sure that they are not accurate. But he does not have any spell prepared that would help him get to the location faster, so he might as well try to follow them. To his surprise, the interior is as labyrinthic as the instructions seemed to suggest, and the directions barely match the narrow corridors, the slanted, sometimes spiky floors, and the way that some parts of the architecture is definitely unusable for someone his size. Had he not been floating, he would not have been able to reach the door he is supposed to go through, or cross a wide chasm opening in the middle of the corridor, seemingly bottomless. After a while, even though he has been following the right steps to the best of his ability, he encounters a dead end, when the fifth door that the knoll mentions happens to open to a broom closet. He tries to trace his steps back, but the path has, inexplicably, changed. The stairs he has just ascended are just solid floor now, and the only opening he can see, beside the broom closet door, is an open arch in the wall that only goes up to his hips.

He kneels on the floor, cursing the indignity, and pokes his head out of it. There are more doors on the other side, so he sighs and carefully fits his shoulder piece through the opening, mindful not to bend its spikes. His body, limber as it is, has no trouble following, although the motion of crawling is unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He does not care for it. To top off the wonderful experience, one of the doors opens before he has time to stand, and he reels at being seen in such an undignified way. Luckily, it happens to be just the person he was looking for.

“Essek!” He offers him a hand to stand, but doesn’t seem offended when Essek declines his help, getting to his feet as swiftly as he can and dusting off his mantle with a wave. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

The humiliation hits him right then, even though he has been on his way for a while. He clenches his teeth for a second, pushing down the deep-seated embarrassment that asking for help makes him feel. He has run as far as he can on his own, and he is sensible enough to accept that he cannot continue. He is desperate, after all, and desperate people don’t get to keep their pride. “I was hoping to ask for your advice, if you would be so kind.”

Caduceus smiles, a dopey grin that makes some of the uncomfortable feeling in Essek’s stomach abate. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for that. Perhaps Caleb would be more suitable?”

Essek suppresses a snort. “No, I think you are exactly who I need for this.” For all of Caleb’s ability when it comes to spells and research, it is obvious that people, and dealing with them, are not his area of expertise.

“Well, I was going to retire for the evening, but I can put it off for a little while still.” He reopens the door he has just come through and he beckons the other to follow.

“Forgive me. If it’s a bad time…”

“No, no,” Caduceus waves a hand dismissively, “I barely follow a proper sleep schedule these days, it is no problem. I’ll make some tea, and we’ll make an actual conversation out of it, how about that?”

With a meek nod and a nervous smile, Essek follows. The route they take has nothing to do with anything that the gnoll described, but nevertheless they arrive to the kitchen. It is big, like an inn’s would be. There is a massive stone oven on one side, and an open fireplace next to it. On the opposite side there is a long bar with smooth prepping surfaces, and even a small table with a couple of stools next to it. From the walls hang various cooking implements, and aromatic plants grow from them as well. Despite the practicality of the space, it has a warm and homey feeling to it, like a place where food is cooked with love instead of for profit. Caduceus catches him observing it and chuckles.

“It was real cozy when we arrived, but Artagan made it bigger for me.” He starts a fire on the fireplace, and fills a kettle with water to put on top of it. He motions Essek to sit at the table as he finishes preparing the tea.

“Artagan?”

“Jester’s god, the Traveler. That’s his real name, not the stage one. He didn’t know I would be the cook, and I bumped my head on the ceiling several times before he corrected it. He is quite nice to me, for a Trickster god, and one who doesn’t like Melora at that.”

“So you have met Jester’s god already?” Essek frowns, confused. “I thought the convention wouldn’t start for a couple of days still.”

“We met him before, when we were travelling through the Whitedawn Lagoon jungle.” Caduceus grimaces a little. “A lot happened. I guess we haven’t had time for pleasant chitchat lately, to update you on all of that.”

There is a tense moment of silence. The last times he has been with the Nein have been…cold. The distance that has opened between him and them is daunting; they don’t seem willing to cross it, and Essek doesn’t know how to do it himself. Only Jester has been trying to keep up a thin veneer of normalcy, of levity, but it has been falling flat. The temptation to run away, to cut all ties and leave them to fend themselves against their enemies ~~or even the darker temptation to smear them in the Bright Queen’s court, to make sure no one will believe them if they tell the truth~~ , has been ever present in his thoughts. Even if he decided to take a distance, to extricate himself from their lives for good, he knows they are good enough and loyal enough that they would not betray him out of spite. But losing that connection would hurt him in ways that he thinks are irreversible.

That is why he is here. That’s why he has to subject himself to asking for help, crawl on his knees, and submit to who knows how many more indignities. Because the thought of letting the last threads of friendship to the Mighty Nein slip away between his fingers is unbearable.

He waits until he has a steaming mug of something floral in his hands before daring to breach the subject. “You are…an insightful person, yes?” Caduceus nods. “Then maybe you know how I would go about gaining back the trust of your group.”

He is the expert, is he not? Either on the subject of people or on the subject of the Mighty Nein, and those are the two areas where Essek needs his expertise. As the Shadowhand, he is used to seeing people as targets, to find the way to gleam information out of them, to hurt them in horrible ways. It is a different thing entirely to know how to care for others, how to make them happy, how to show them kindness. In that field, he is as inexperienced as a newborn babe.

Caduceus tilts his head a little, drawing his eyebrows together, and Essek can almost see the thoughts churning in his head slowly, giving his request proper consideration. He won’t suspect his motives like Beau would, won’t question if he’s trying to find the best way to destroy them from the inside out. Caduceus trusts him, to a point. He was the one to accept his apology, perhaps because he was the only one who could see how genuine it was.

“They’re hurt. That’s the tricky part,” he says at last with a wince.

Essek face pinches, the weight on his stomach growing heavier. Their hurt troubles him more than the death of thousands. He nods, encouraging the firbolg to continue.

“No one likes to hear that a friend has been lying to them. I know,” he cuts Essek when he seems ready to interject, “and your apology was enough for me, you don’t have to repeat it. I’ve already forgiven you, remember?” Essek smiles a little, though his expression remains tense. “But to mend that hurt it’s going to take time, and consistency, from you.”

He suspected as much, but he is still listening rapturously, filing away every single word coming out of Caduceus mouth. Time and consistency are things he can do. He has more time than any of them, as long as his treason remains undiscovered.

“Some of my friends have a complicated relationship with trust, so they might be a little prickly because of that. Caleb…” the mere mention of his name makes pain ripple across Essek’s features, and Caduceus smiles sadly when he sees it, “well, he can be like a skittish animal in that regard. But he can be lured out again, with the right ways. I think he is willing to give you another chance.”

Dull relief hits him between the ribs, and he bends forward a little. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’d do anything.” He exhales slowly, and sits up straight again, squaring his shoulders in preparation for the bad news. “What about the others?”

Caduceus scratches his beard absentmindedly. “The main problem, and what’s making some mistrust you, is that you don’t seem very willing to answer for your actions, nor to do anything to atone for them.” His voice is matter-of-fact, but the words seem to make the room drop several degrees in temperature.

The accusation stirs a defensiveness in him, a buried vein of rage and fear mixed together. His tone is harsh and closed off when he speaks. “If the Bright Queen were to find out about what I’ve done…”

“You would be executed?”

“Immediately and brutally, yes,” he snaps. The firbolg obviously dislikes his insolence, because he does not continue, choosing instead to just look at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. Essek is about to apologize when a thought, icy and painful, suddenly pierces his mind. His face crumples. “Is that what it will take? For them to forgive me?” Must he die a martyr to his own mistakes in order to atone? Is that what they would like, to see him hanged? Has he hurt his only friends so badly that they want him dead?

“Gods, no, I’m not saying that,” Caduceus replies as he sees him spiral, and one of his big hands lands on Essek’s shoulder.

It makes him jump a little, the touch foreign and uncomfortable. He doesn’t dare to squirm out of it, although it almost burns him, pins and needles dancing under his skin under the solid, grounding weight. It is a good tether to grab and pull himself out of his thoughts, unto the reality of this conversation rather than his paranoia.

“Even if someone suggested turning you in, I would never let it happen, okay? They would have to go through me.” The drow looks back up to his face and nods, eyes brimming with trust. Caduceus squeezes his shoulder and takes his hand back once it looks like Essek is not going to start hyperventilating. “But you need to see past that possibility. If all you want to do is keep your head down and hope consequences blow you by, that’s what we take issue with. Cowards don’t make for very good friends, you know.” He lets Essek stew on it for a bit as they both take long sips of their tea; the brew he made for Essek is bitter, and it is screaming for a bit of honey. “We would like you to prove to us that you have changed. Giving away those beacons was selfish. We want you to be selfless, and not just for us, but because it is the right thing to do.”

For a long moment, Essek stares at him. Caduceus looks older than when they first met, a scant four months ago; the white in his hair ages him, as well as the circles under his eyes. He is out of his chitinous armor, and his extreme thinness is apparent. Essek had not taken much notice of him when they had first met, too distracted with Caleb and the beacon he had pulled out of nowhere, but he could swear his cheeks are now more sunken in than before. Yet his eerie, unnatural gauntness does not haunt him half as much as the affability in his features, the openness of his smile. This firbolg sees him as someone capable of empathy, of goodness motivated by something else than his fear of loneliness. It is heartbreaking to have to disabuse him of that notion.

“I owe you honesty, if nothing else,” Essek says, almost to himself, and forces himself to continue to look at Caduceus in the eye. “I am not used to…caring for anyone, or any goals outside of my own. I don’t see the point in taking into account how my actions will affect others, unless it can benefit me in some way. I see giving away the beacons as an error of judgment for the danger it has brought upon me, and by extension, upon you, more than for the loss of life that it precipitated. I am willing to do…” he shakes his head a little, shrugging, “whatever it takes, to get back on your good side. But any amount of remorse, or preoccupation for ‘doing the right thing’, as you put it, would be a fallacy. I have, at the very least, learnt my lesson about lying to you all. I don’t think you want me to pretend, yes?”

Caduceus hums disapprovingly, his lips pursing to the side and his brows coming together. His nails clink repeatedly on the side of his mug as he thinks Essek’s words over. “Thank you for your honesty. But maybe, um,” he gives a little cough, “you should keep that to yourself. I don’t imagine the others would take it well, if they heard it. Besides, I don’t think it is true.”

Essek sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I know it is hard to believe me after all the lies I have told, but I am being–”

“Honest, yes. I am not saying you don’t believe it. I am saying you are mistaken.” His placid smile is back, and it’s a bit disarming, enough that Essek considers accepting his verdict as fact for a second.

“I appreciate your willingness to think the best of me, but…” he trails off.

“You care for us. That’s something.”After a second, Essek nods. “Good. That’s the first step, isn’t it? To think of someone other than yourself as a person. You can build from there, I think.” He rests his cheek on his hands and taps lightly against it, deep in thought once more. “My guess is that you could feel regret for everything else, too, but it would take some work. And, I’m sorry to say, it won’t be pleasant. You have caused grief on a massive scale, and it’s going to come back to bite you one way or another. Let’s hope it happens in a constructive way, instead of with a noose around your neck.”

He talks about Essek’s probable death in such a casual way, without changing the languid cadence of his voice, that Essek unconsciously brings a hand up to his neck, as if wanting to protect it. He scratches it to disguise the reflexive movement, but there’s a spark of amusement in Caduceus eyes that tells him that he is not fooling anyone.

“Where do you suggest I begin, then?” he asks as calmly as he is able, but it makes the firbolg chuckle anyway.

“Start small. Look outside of your window every now and then, try to think how the things you do will affect the people you see. Then figure out how that makes _you_ feel. Come back when you’ve figured that out, and I can give you more suggestions.”

It is an easy enough exercise. The Lucid Bastion sits in a much transited area, and he can spare moments away from his work for this task. It is easy enough to give it a try, although he doubts of its effectiveness; after all, it has been his job, in a way, to protect the people of the Dynasty, and it has never made him feel much more than contempt for them, for their blind faith and baseless beliefs. But he has come to the expert for a reason, and if that is his recommendation, then Essek will follow it to the letter, if only to prove that he is willing to make an effort to be worthy of the affections of the Mighty Nein.

He finishes his tea. It has grown cold during their conversation, and even more bitter, but he gulps it down without complain. It helps him fortify himself for the question that has been in his head for a few weeks now, prickling his conscience in a way that it never had before. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

Caduceus laughs, a deep, throaty sound. “Honestly? Yes.” It surprises Essek, although it stings him less than he expected. He is still smiling at him, every ounce the supporting, caring friend he has been for the entire visit, without a hint of malice. “But I still like you. Because I know you have a heart somewhere, and if you have opened it for us, you can do it for others. You’re not completely hopeless.”

Essek smiles back at him, wincing a little. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” It’s an understatement for how his thoughts have been dissecting every word out of Caduceus mouth, classifying it and letting it spark entire universes of possibilities, analyzing the things he did wrong in the past, the things he can do better now, and the things he can do well in the future.

“Well, don’t get a headache.”

Essek chuckles. _A bit late for that_.

“You have a long, hard road ahead of you. But you’ll do fine, I have complete faith in you.” His voice is dripping with fondness, and it makes Essek squirm in his seat a little.

“You know what my thoughts are on faith,” he mumbles petulantly.

“I know how much of a motivation ‘not disappointing me’ will be,” Caduceus whispers conspiratorially, and it makes Essek snicker a little, which he suspects was the intention. “The others are going to be a little harder to convince, so other than your personal work, I am going to suggest some…easy ways to get on their good graces, to smooth things over.”

Essek arcs an eyebrow, interested. “Oh? Such as?”

“Jester is easy: she already loves you, but she will get very happy if you bring her pastries, even more if you try to bake them yourself.”

“Um…” he grimaces, “I doubt that food poisoning is the way to Jester’s heart. I wouldn’t even know where to start, I have always had servants to cook for me.”

“That explains some things… Just get whatever the baker recommends as their sweetest treat, then.” Essek nods. “Yasha has been practicing with her harp a lot lately, so you should ask her about how that’s going, or ask her to play something for you, and then compliment her on her playing, no matter the quality of it. She also likes flowers a lot, but, as you can see,” he gestures at the walls of the kitchen, rife with little blue forget-me-nots, and at the window, where they can see the meadow chock-full of closed flowers under the moonlight, “she is rather served in that department at the moment.” He bites his lip, deep in thought. “Beau…I’m not going to lie, she’s not looking at you with kind eyes at the moment, but if you offered her unrestricted access to the Marble Tomes, that would go a long way to get back into her good graces. Caleb, too, even more, and if you offer him a couple of powerful spells from your repertoire, well, that wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Essek nods, his gears already turning. Professor Waccoh owes him a favor, and now that an uneasy peace has been established between the two warring countries, he thinks that the distrust for the group of people who made it possible might have abated a little. He would not be able to grant them unrestricted access, but there were a myriad of history books that would keep Beau entertained for hours, and many guides on basic Dunamancy that would make Caleb drool. It’s worth the risk of going against the orders of his Queen, who is now placated by peace, and maybe not as blood-thirsty as she had seemed these past few months.

“Fjord is empathetic to your plight. Some time ago he went down a path that could have unleashed a great evil on this world, but he turned away from it before it was too late.” He tilts his head, eyes lost in the distance, deep in thought. “He was tempted, so he can understand why you fell into temptation, because he was close to doing the same thing, and for motives just as selfish. I think if you are honest with him, and show him you are willing to change, that will be all he needs. He has a big heart, that one.”

He blushes a bit, and tries unsuccessfully to cover it with his mug. Essek files this reaction to examine it later.

“That leaves Veth.” They simultaneously take a deep sigh, and laugh a bit when they notice it. “Your best bet would be to go find her husband and try to fix some of the damage you did there by, you know. Starving him.”

“Ah. Yes.” He rubs his forehead a little. “Maybe not in person, since I cannot imagine he would be very willing to see me.”

“That might be smart, yes. His apothecary was razed to the ground when your people attacked his town, so maybe offering monetary means or connections to start such a business again would go a long way to earning his trust.”

“I will do that, then.” He sighs. “Thank you. That is invaluable information. But you have forgotten about one member of your group.”

Caduceus eyebrows shoot up comically. “Have I?” He starts counting on his fingers, murmuring names.

Essek interrupts him with a laugh before he’s half-way through. “I meant you, Caduceus.”

“Me?” Caduceus asks, confused.

“What can I do for you?”

“I told you, I have forgiven you,” he repeats. “You don’t have to earn back my friendship like this.”

“I know,” Essek assures him. “But you have been so kind to me. I just want to make you happy.”

Caduceus eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs. “I was right to place my faith in you, after all.” He thinks it over for a minute. “This is fine. It makes me happy that you came to me with this, that you trust me when you’re troubled, and that I managed to do something to help.”

“Exactly. _You_ helped _me_ ,” he insists, exasperated. “I’m the one who benefitted the most here, it hardly seems fair. I should care about that, yes? About making things fair?”

“As I said…”

“How about you tell me your woes and worries, since you listened to mine?” he interrupts him. “Unburden yourself on me. I would…I would really like to hear what troubles you.”

It surprises him, to realize he is not lying. There is something in his chest desperate to earn what he has been so kindly given. He has never dealt well with feeling indebted to someone, preferring to pay what he owed immediately so it wouldn’t become an axe hanging over his head, but this is different. Caduceus wouldn’t lord it over him, wouldn’t use this favor against him in any way, and that makes it all the more important to repay.

Seeing how eagerly he learns forward on his chair, earnestly willing to listen, makes Caduceus chuckle. “I’m pretty trouble-free, at the moment. I recently managed to accomplish what I set out to do when I left home many months ago, and now I’m just along for the ride to help everyone else reach their destinations.”

It sounds honest, but in a rare moment of clarity, Essek can see that there is more to it that the other is letting on, but he probably won’t open up about it unless Essek confronts him on it directly. He wracks his brain, trying to think of what could be upsetting him, causing those deep circles under his eyes, and the way his hands trembled a little where they held the mug. The Mighty Nein have not trusted him with a lot, lately, so he is largely unaware of any conflicts they might have encountered…except for one, actually.

A memory pings on the back of Essek’s head; Vess deRogna coming back to the _Wind of Aeons_ in the middle of the night to tell them the Ball-Eater had been assailed, and that its captain had fallen during the struggle. The news had nearly stopped Essek’s heart, and he was readying the motions to teleport there himself when deRogna said he had been brought back to life already by their cleric, and how he had looked at her with murderous rage for daring to approach the captain’s still-prone body.

He decides to try his luck. “I heard that Fjord died the night you were attacked.”

The silence that befalls the kitchen is so absolute, that for a moment Essek thinks someone has cast a spell. But no, it is just the quiet shock in Caduceus’ face, that robs him of all his affableness and turns him into something stony and angry. When the surprise fades, he mostly looks disappointed, and it makes Essek want to fling himself off a cliff. But he pushes, because he knows he is on the right path, and that it is important, too.

“How are you feeling about that?”

He tries to maintain a neutral expression, firm, booking no arguments, although he is overwhelmed by the fear that this will be the thing that makes Caduceus change his mind about him. He is not pushing out of a sadistic motive, but out of love. Essek is not entrenched in their day-to-day lives (no matter how much he wishes he was), and therefore not under Caduceus’ protection. He can be an ear to listen, and who better to keep a secret than the master of spies? But maybe the firbolg will not interpret his prodding that way. He looked angry, for a brief moment. Essek wonders if this will be the thing to make Caduceus finally raise his voice. Nobody else is here; if his mask of calm breaks, nobody else would know.

After a moment, though, his smile returns, sadder than ever. “I have had many nightmares since I started my travels. At first they were about losing my home to the corruption that consumes it, about not finding my family, or finding them dead. I dreamed about the creatures we killed, about their angry ghosts haunting us, complaining we hadn’t provided them with the preferred rites for burial.” His eyebrows draw together, and he presses his mouth closed for a moment, until his lips turn almost white. “I dreamed about… my friends, my new friends, dying, and Melora’s favor leaving me when I needed her magic to bring them back. And then…”

He takes a deep breath. His voice sounds sad, but Essek is surprised to find that his expression is angry, angrier than he had thought possible for him.

“The nightmares were terrible but they didn’t compare to the real thing.”

Before he can think about what he’s doing, Essek reaches across the table and rests his hand on the other’s wrist. It feels unnatural, at first, but he forces himself to persevere. He even caresses his thumb over Caduceus’ pulse point, light as a feather. It seems to ground Caduceus, somehow, the anger melting away. The white-knuckled grip on his mug starts to relax, and he sighs.

“To answer your question, I feel scared. It was traumatic. And that fear hasn’t stopped, not when we killed the monster that did it, not when I brought Fjord back. I can’t sleep, can’t relax if he’s not near me. I need to protect him, I don’t think that…thing is done with him, and I need to be there when it comes back. We’re out of the waters but this is an island, it would be easy to send someone who…” he closes his eyes, takes another deep breath. Essek squeezes his wrist lightly for support. There are tears in Caduceus’ eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. “This is the first time that I’ve wanted to go home. And I want to drag Fjord home with me, because maybe there, away from the ocean, I could protect him.”

“Have you told him any of this? Or any of the others?” His silence is answer enough. “Caduceus…”

“It’s just panic.” He opens his eyes, composes his face into something mild and nonthreatening again. “Overwhelming and constant, but it’s just fear.” He shrugs. “I will get used to it.”

The change in demeanor is so abrupt that Essek takes his hand away, surprised. “Don’t you think they would like to help? If they knew?”

Caduceus huffs, looking anywhere but Essek’s face. “Or they would think I’m weak and would agree that I should go home, alone, and then I wouldn’t be able to protect any of them.”

Essek raises an eyebrow, surprised at his friend’s childish tone. “I think you didn’t have a good answer to that, so you’re just being difficult on purpose.” They stare at each other, unblinking, for a long moment, until Essek caves and averts his eyes. “Okay. I have something more tangible that might help assuage some of your fear. But you would have to keep it a secret from…” he laughs, dry and petty, “what am I saying, that’s what you do best, why should I worry?”

It makes Caduceus wince. “Harsh, but I think I deserved that.”

“There is a spell you can ask from your Goddess, if she would be…willing to give it to you?” He hesitates, not sure if he’s being disrespectful. “Sorry, I have no idea of how that works. I just go buy a spell scroll when I need it.”

“Asking usually works. What is it called?”

“Warding Bond. It lasts for an hour, and only works as long as you are within a certain distance from him. It would make Fjord harder to hit, and give him a natural resistance to all kinds of damage, but…” he sighs, troubled, “you would suffer the same damage he does. In a way, it would be like splitting the pain between the two of you.”

“Fjord would never agree to that,” he says, but his voice catches a little, and his eyes are bright with desire. There is no denying that he’s tempted.

“Fjord…” Essek wrestles with himself, unsure if he should say this next bit, because he knows it would not occur to Caduceus on his own, “doesn’t need to know about the side-effects, not at first at least.” He shrugs. “Not ever, if you’re lucky, or good at hiding when you’re hurt.” He suspects that that is one of Caduceus’ hidden talents.

The firbolg is staring a hole through the table, mind alight with the possibilities. “Thank you for telling me that.”

 _This is a mistake_ , Essek realizes belatedly. But what’s done is done, and all he can hope is that it does not end up poorly. “You will need two platinum rings. I can bring them to you tomorrow at the earliest, if…” he wracks his mind, trying to find a way to dampen the self-sacrificing glow emanating from Caduceus’ eyes, “if you promise me that you will only use it during downtime, as a way to assuage your anxiety. Just to be prepared, not in the middle of an actual, dangerous battle. Just…as a little extra, so that if you are attacked they don’t catch you completely unawares.” He presses his lips together to stop rambling. Caduceus is staring at him blankly.

“Sure,” he says in a dispassionate voice.

“Look, I don’t need your otherworldly wisdom to know that was a lie.” Essek takes a deep breath to calm the nervousness suddenly gnawing at the bottom of his stomach. “Promise me you won’t be stupid with it. Swear it on…the Wildmother.”

“That is very much frowned upon.”

“Swear it on our friendship, then.”

Caduceus’ expression softens, the stubbornness giving way to a smile. “I swear on our friendship that I will be careful.”

“Those are not airtight terms, but I’ll take them.” He stands up.

Caduceus stands too, and approaches him with his arms open. He is giving him enough time to back away, if he desires to do so. Essek decides to submit to it anyway, obeying an impulse from some unknown, hidden part of himself. He stiffens when he feels the arms around him, and he doesn’t hug back. Caduceus is so much taller than him that Essek’s cheek is pressed against his chest. He is warm and smells of earth. Essek doesn’t fully hate it, maybe. Maybe he even enjoys it a little, and doesn’t want it to end, ever.

“If you kill yourself with this I’m never going to let you hear the end of it.” He’s never going to forgive himself, either. It will just be added to the pile of sins that he cannot atone for.

“I’ll be dead,” Caduceus points out, stepping back from the hug with a smile.

“I’ll have Jester bring you back just so I can scream at you.”

“That’s fair. I will try very hard not to die.” His expression turns mock-serious. “I have a promise to uphold, after all.”

Essek smiles, but it is still tense. “I’ll be back tomorrow, with the rings and…some other things.”

“Good night, Essek.”

It is easier to teleport directly home than to try to find his way out of this nightmarish building to draw a circle. He has the spell slots to spare, and this way he can go home directly. If he were to go through the Lucid Bastion, he would risk having to answer questions as to where he was, late at night, from any acquaintance working there late. Once he is in the comfort of his own study, he takes off his heavy mantle and sits at his desk. He writes several notes, and calls a servant to go deliver them. Before the boy leaves, Essek asks him to write down the addresses of every bakery he knows in Rosohna. He is glad to see some unfamiliar names, because he only knew of two, and he knows from experience their inventory is not up to a certain tiefling’s standards.

He readies for bed, the conversation with Caduceus still running circles through his brain. There is no harm in trying to be better, he supposes. At the very least, it will be a challenge worthy of him.


	2. Fjord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek returns to Rumblecusp to deliver some promised gifts and has a conversation with Fjord.

It is a good thing that Essek only needs four hours of rest. He wakes up early and glides to the nearest jewelry. He wants to get this done as soon as possible, but he does spend his time looking through the ring options. He ends up buying a couple of identical rings made of braided strands of platinum; they contain a simple charm that will adapt them to the size of the wearer, and cost quite a bit more than the required fifty gold. It doesn’t matter, since Essek had no intention of letting Caduceus pay him back for them anyway. As he browsed their selection, though, another item catches his attention. It’s far more expensive, but it gives him an idea.

He pays the jeweler an exorbitant amount to persuade him not to let anyone know what he has purchased and he takes his leave. He travels a couple of streets over to the first bakery of four, where he purchases several boxes salted caramel éclairs, butter croissants, and sugar and cinnamon covered churros. He decides against tasting the goods, as he intends to acquire a variety of pastries, and he doesn’t want to stuff himself before teleporting. He trusts the baker’s recommendation that they will be sweet enough for his friend’s tastes. At the second one, he finds berry jam-filled tarts and bear claws, and he cleans out their inventory. He goes home then, as the pile of boxes that follows him floating is beginning to be cumbersome, and it is attracting a good deal of looks. He has the wherewithal to take a servant with him as he leaves again, and he sends them home after the third bakery with a pile of doughnut boxes precariously balanced on their arms. The last one does not have much to offer, other than the vanilla wafers that he was trying to avoid, although he ends up buying a few bags of almond and anise biscuits that he remembers liking in his youth. He is sure that someone will enjoy them, even if Jester might dismiss them for being too tough.

He gathers all of packages in his study, uncaring of the weird looks that his own staff is giving him, and arranges them in a massive pile as tall as he is to the best of his ability. With a snap of his fingers, they start to float.

Now that he is familiar with the location, it is much easier to get a successful teleport. When he lands, though, he has a moment of doubt. It is possible that the insane house has changed the location of the room during the night, since although he is in a kitchen, it doesn’t look anything like the one he visited less than twelve hours before. For one, it is much more spacious than before, and at the center of it there is a bubbling cauldron, at least three feet in diameter. The table where he had his chat with Caduceus is gone, and has been replaced with more counters. Caduceus himself is near one of them, his work of cutting a veritable mountain of vegetables interrupted by Essek’s arrival. He quickly turns to look at him when he appears, kitchen knife raised high and light gathering around his other hand, but he puts both down when he sees who it is.

“Where can I put these?” Essek asks, pointing with his thumb at the pile of boxes hovering at his side.

Caduceus looks at it wearily, ears flattening in confusion. “Depends on what’s in them.”

“Mostly pastries, but they will stay fresh for at least a week, no matter where you put them.”

“Essek.” Caduceus blinks several times. “When I suggested you bring Jester pastries, I didn’t mean ‘enough baked goods that she can eat herself to death with them’. She actually might, with all of these,” he says, frowning worriedly at the pile.

“Perhaps she will need some convincing to share them, but I have brought them for the other attendants as well. I guessed they might have as much of a sweet tooth as her.”

He is not sure if loving chaos requires a penchant for sugar. It might actually be a bad idea to give them extra fuel. But hopefully Jester will be distracted enough by her own taste buds to blame him if things go wrong.

“That’s…very thoughtful. I’m proud of you, you’re making progress already.” He smiles widely, and Essek is surprised to feel warmth spreading on his chest at the words. Maybe Caduceus has cast a feel-good spell on him as a reward for good behavior. The feeling sours instantly when Caduceus’ expression turns serious. “Do you have them?”

Essek sighs. “Yes.” He retrieves a small velvet bag from inside of his mantle, and gives it to Caduceus. Yesterday’s nervousness returns at full force. “If he finds out I gave you that…”

“He won’t.”

“Good.” He looks down. “There are already far too little people on my side as it is.”

Caduceus puts down the knife and wipes his hands on his apron before approaching him and placing both hands on Essek’s shoulders. Essek is hyperaware of their weight. He is not floating right now, so Caduceus towers over him, and Essek almost has to strain his neck to look him in the eye. The proximity is a bit dazzling, which he suspects is what Caduceus intended.

“Thank you.” He kisses the top of his head. “I will not forget this.”

Essek blushes a dark purple and immediately attempts to flee, not trusting himself enough to speak. He wiggles out of the other’s gentle grasp and makes for the door, but he stops in his tracks when it opens and a familiar half-orc walks in.

“Essek!” The drow tries to ascertain if the pleasure in his face is faked or genuine, but he can’t tell for sure. “Are you here to attend Travelercon?”

“No, I just came to drop off some pastries for Jester and the members of her cu– congregation,” he corrects himself in time, even though the blue tiefling is not here to hear it. Fjord snorts at his almost-slip.

“Damn, that’s a shame. I think it’s not going to be as much of a nightmare as we expected. For one, the volcano is inactive, which is a great plus.” Essek’s eyes widen at the implication that that hadn’t been a given before they arrived at the location. Fjord continues. “I know you’re not one for gods, but it should be an interesting event. Maybe you should stay, you know? Do some spying for your queen if you have to justify your absence from Rosohna." He wiggles his eyebrows meaningfully. "I think you’ll agree small cults have been a bit of a problem lately, it wouldn’t do to let this one run unsupervised.”

Essek frowns, confused at his insistence, and looks at Caduceus for guidance. The firbolg explains. “It would mean a lot to Jester.”

 _Ah_. It makes sense that Fjord would not think Jester’s happiness is enough to convince him. To be fair, it wouldn’t have been, before.

“Look, I know you’re busy.” Fjord approaches Essek, who makes an effort not to take a step back, and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “She has been going through a rough patch with all this Traveler stuff. I think she would really appreciate having someone extra in her corner.”

It would be possible to acquiesce. His workload has been greatly reduced since the armistice, and he had actually taken these few days off to dive into the research materials that the Assembly had finally given him. But supporting Jester seems a much more alluring goal right now. “I guess I could stay.” Both of his friends grin. He however hesitates, wincing. “I’m not sure everyone would be as thrilled to have me around, though.”

“Nonsense!” Fjord exclaims, but after a moment he backpedals. “Well, some sense. Some people are…a bit touchy about you right now. Tell you what,” he slaps one hand down on Essek’s shoulder, making him stagger a little in place, “I’ll talk to them, smooth things over. I think they’d be open to it, if only for Jester’s sake.”

Essek’s throat closes, and it’s a little harder to talk, all of a sudden. “Thank you.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve saved our bacon plenty, I’m just paying back one of those favors.” His voice softens a notch. “You’re welcome here, with us. Any time.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. Any other reply is too stuck to come out. 

Fjord pats him on the shoulder a couple more times for good measure and walks to the massive pot. He smell its contents and attempts to grab the large ladle to get a taste, but Caduceus smacks him with his tail before he can even touch it. “Be nice to me, I recently died,” Fjord grumbles.

“You’re a plague upon my kitchen, go away” Caduceus replies good-naturedly, and Fjord pouts.

Essek clears his throat. “I heard about the incident. It is good to see you well.”

“Ah, well, you can thank my guardian angel for that.” He indicates Caduceus with his head, then comes uncomfortably close to Essek to whisper, “I’m gonna marry that man one day.” Essek’s eyebrows shoot up, and he shakes his head a little, surprised.

Caduceus laughs. “I can hear you, you know.”

“Oh shit!” Fjord pretends to be shocked, and Caduceus laughs some more. He walks to Caduceus and stands on his tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s not a secret anyway.”

“We have been together for one week!” Caduceus protests, but the smile on his lips is brighter than any Essek has ever seen on him.

“Yeah, but didn’t you hear Jester? We are _cosmically entwined_ ,” Fjord insists. “I’d wager that ends up in marriage.”

“We can discuss a better proposal when I’m not cooking.” He brandishes the ladle at him. “Shoo. Go.”

Fjord laughs and starts leaving the kitchen, but pauses at the doorway, struck with some thought. “Actually, Essek, could you come with me a for second? I’d like your opinion on something,” he asks, too casual to be genuine.

Intrigued, Essek follows him through the door as Caduceus rolls his eyes. Fjord hesitates as soon as the kitchen door closes behind him. They both look at the unfamiliar corridor they find themselves in, which presents them with a myriad of doors of different sizes and in illogical heights, and turn to stare each other.

“Do you have any tricks navigating this place?” Essek asks.

“I usually pick a direction and try to keep going in that direction until I find an exit.” He closes his eyes and puts his hand briefly over the Wildmother’s symbol on his chest. He nods to himself and looks to his right. “Getting to a specific room _in_ the house is more problematic. But I can get us out, no problem.”

With a little skepticism, Essek follows him as he begins walking towards a large, electric-blue door. This starts a fifteen-minute exploration of the cottage in search for a way out. They deviate from their preferred straight line many times, and have to walk backwards whenever they find a dead end due to the twists and turns of the corridors. They find themselves wading through waist-high water at some point and have to drag themselves through a narrow tunnel once or twice, but eventually they open a door to find the back of the building and escape relatively unharmed. Fjord pumps the air in victory.

“That took much less time than I expected!”

“How does that even work? How does everyone else navigate it?” Essek asks, disturbed. He’s squinting in the sudden sun, so he brings out his parasol, which he had packed for the occasion, and opens it to protect himself. He suspects that its hot pink color clashes with the aloof image he tries to present, but the relief it brings more than makes up for his aesthetic complaints. Besides, Jester made it just for him, and that makes it perfect.

“Deucy says it’s about intuition, and I don’t have much of that.” He gives Essek the side eye. “Neither do you, I assume.”

“Not outside of the study of Dunamancy, I’m afraid,” he admits. “I have trouble orienting myself under normal circumstances.”

“So do I. But I suspect my troubles here have more to do with the Traveler not liking me very much.” He clicks his tongue distastefully.

“Oh?” Essek arcs an eyebrow. “How come?”

“I’m very protective of Jester, and…” he takes a deep, long sigh, “he called me a mama’s boy.”

Essek can’t help but snicker, and he covers his mouth, almost startled by it.

“Yeah, it’s fine, laugh at my expense, all my other friends are doing it anyway,” Fjord grumbles.

“I’m sorry, I’m just surprised.” He clears his throat, and tries to will the corners of his mouth to stop tipping up. “I cannot think of a less accurate way to describe you. Why would he think that?”

“Maybe he had his eye on me, back when I was picking a new god to follow.” He walks to the outer wall of the cottage and starts ripping some green vines climbing it. “Jester is a bit jealous that I didn’t end up following him instead of the Wildmother, even though it would have made no sense for me to do that.” He summons the Star Razor to cut the vines to the length he wants, and makes the sword disappear afterwards.

“What did you want my opinion on?” Essek asks, remembering the motive of their outing.

Fjord is bending down to pick some flowers. He straightens up and scratches the back of his head with his free hand, suddenly bashful. “Caduceus said you talked to him last night?”

The seemingly innocuous question puts Essek on alert. His instinct is to assure Fjord that nothing happened, his throat swallowing the preemptive _I would never hurt him_. It’s suspicious, yes, that he went to visit the most vulnerable member of their group in the middle of the night. Essek would not blame Fjord if he were to threaten him with retribution if Essek dared to hurt his partner, or if he asked him not to have one-on-one talks with anybody else for their protection. Knowing he has no tools to defend his intentions, he shows a polite smile. “Yes, I came seeking his advice. Why do you ask?”

Fjord sighs, disappointed, and shakes his head. “Right, it was to help you. That makes sense, forget I asked.”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“I know, that’s not…”

“Is there something specific you wanted to know?” Essek insists. “We talked about other things, other than my issues.”

“I just…” he brings a hand up to his mouth and starts picking at a tusk, but he catches himself and stops after a couple of seconds, and crouches to keep picking up flowers, keep his hands entertained elsewhere. “He has a bad habit of keeping things in, around us, and then he will talk about them to the most random people. I was wondering if maybe he had said something to you.” He is not looking directly at Essek, but he can’t quite hide the note of concern in his voice.

He feels a bit guilty for mistrusting Fjord’s question, now. He doesn’t consider Essek a threat, but someone worthy of Caduceus trust. That’s high praise, coming from him. “I had a lucky guess on his emotional state, and he confirmed it. He is having some trouble coping with your recent demise, however brief, and dealing with the fear of it happening again.” He hopes Caduceus will forgive him the indiscretion. Luckily, judging by Fjord’s expression he hasn’t told him anything he did not know already.

Fjord bites his lip and exhales. “Yeah, that’s what I suspected.” He rubs his eyes and sighs again. “That’s why I was down there, you know? The first days after it happened, he… followed me around a lot. Didn’t want to let me out of his sight. The others teased him about it and he stopped, but he was still anxious, so I’m trying to…let him see I’m okay every now and then. And hey, it’s an excuse to check up on him and see him, so I’m not complaining, I just wonder if there’s something else I could be doing for him, to help him deal with it.”

Apparently satisfied with the amount of flowers he has collected, Fjord sits down and starts weaving the vines together into a braid, lining up the stems of the flowers with them so that they are captured in it. He is using big white gardenias, lavender sprigs, green carnations and violets. Essek sits next to him, careful not to block the light with the parasol, and watches him work in silence for a few minutes.

“Are you…” Essek hesitates, biting his lip. Although Fjord doesn’t seem as private as Caduceus, his worry over Caduceus’ state might be stopping him from being as open with his partner as he would like. On the other hand, Essek doesn’t want to bring up painful memories unnecessarily. But caring about others means prodding when it’s hard, too, he’s pretty sure about that. “Are _you_ okay? It seems to me it would be more of a traumatic experience for you than for him.”

“What? I’m fine,” he assures him, then laughs at Essek’s skeptical look. “I have gone unconscious during battle before, and this didn’t feel all that different. It wasn’t…” his expression crisps, “pleasant. It was cold, and…” his hands lose their rhythm, and the braid loosens enough for a couple of the blooms to drop to his lap. It takes him a second to pick them up and put them back into their proper place, and by then he has schooled his features into a pleasant (and most probably fake) smile. “Anyway, I knew Caduceus would surely bring me back lickety-split. So it wasn’t that different from any of our other battles, really, at least not for me.”

It sounds too forced to be true, but Essek doesn’t want to push him further. “That’s the thing I don’t understand,” he says instead. “You risk your lives, over and over, sometimes for meager reward. Unlike any other mercenaries I’ve ever met, you seem to have little interest in gold, and most of you have talents that could be put to use in much less dangerous jobs. How aren’t you worried about dying every day?”

Fjord frowns at him, confused. “Are _you_ worried about dying every day?”

“Yes! Absolutely!” Essek exclaims, exasperated that none of these people seem to comprehend the primal anxiety that consumes his every waking moment. “If what I did was discovered, I would be immediately tortured and executed. I have lived with this fear for three years, and it’s been exhausting. Yet you lot are happy to run head-first into danger again and again. How does the possibility of dying not terrify you?”

“I guess it does, a little, but…” he thinks about it for a minute. “I grew up in a terrible place, many of the kids around me did not make it to adulthood. I have already lived longer than I expected.” He ties the two ends of the braid together, and starts weaving in smaller pink flowers in the gaps between the others. “I worked on a ship for most of my adult life, which is not the safest lifestyle either, but at least I was out there, seeing the world. And nothing compares to the wonderful things I have seen travelling with the Nein.

“Wonderful enough to make mortal danger worth it?” Essek insists, baffled.

“It’s more than that,” Fjord huffs, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “It would be… not fine, if I died, but not a tragedy, at least not for me. I nearly died once, when the ship I was working in sank. If I had died then, that would have been terrible. I had achieved nothing that I could take pride in, back then.”

“From the looks of it, you had survived,” Essek points out, but his voice is less combative. “That is something to be proud of.”

Fjord waves a hand, dismissive. “Yes, sure, but…it’s an empty victory after a while.” He pauses his work on the flowers to focus all his attention on Essek. “You might not be there yet, but I think you’ll find out surviving doesn’t mean much, unless you do something worthwhile with your life, after you worked so hard to preserve it.”

It feels like a blow, and Essek isn’t sure if Fjord had intended it that way, or if he is just genuinely sharing his own experience to help him. He cannot hold eye contact, though, because, intentionally or not, the blow lands square on his stomach. The truth is he had not realized how devoid of meaning his life was until the Mighty Nein spent a month on another plane, not even sending him the occasional message to assure him they were okay. The worry, the emptiness, and the boredom that had consumed him during that month had been unparalleled. Essek doesn’t want to spend another one like it for the rest of his (hopefully) centuries-long life. Maybe Fjord has a point.

Fjord clears his throat to break the tension in the air and resumes his motions. “I don’t want to die,” Fjord continues, “I want to live at all costs, in fact, now that my life is actually good. Not to mention that it would be a terrible blow for my friends if something were to happen to me.” His expression turns somber. “I saw how affected they were, after Caduceus brought me back.”

A shudder runs through Essek, and he pulls the mantle closer to his body. “It was terrible just to hear about it.” He still cannot look Fjord in the eye. “I can’t imagine what it would have been like to see it.”

“Hey.” Fjord leans over a little to knock their shoulders together. “I’m alright, aren’t I?”

“For now.” He half-smiles, teasing.

“You’re an ass.” He chuckles. “Anyway, if I were to die now, I would have no regrets. I have been fair to myself and to others, I have done my best and I have accomplished great things. I have enjoyed myself, and I would go with a clear conscience. That’s more than I could have hoped for.”

They are silent for a while, and Fjord finishes the flower crown. He tries it on, but it’s too big for his own head.

“I think it will fit Deucy just fine, though,” he tells Essek. He starts to get up.

“Wait.” Essek searches his mantle for the right pocket, and extracts from it a rectangular wooden box, around six inches long and half as wide. He opens it and offers its contents to Fjord.

“What is it?” Fjord asks as he takes a silver necklace form the box. Its chain links are small and delicate, and from it hangs a pendant made of a ring of amethyst, the central slice of a small geode.

“It functions similar to the one that Caleb possesses: it’s an anti-scrying amulet. One of my underlings reported to me that you had noticed their surveillance a while ago.”

“Um…” Fjord scratches his beard, self-conscious. “I gather I was a bit obvious.”

Essek raises an eyebrow at him. “You could say that,” he says diplomatically, causing the half-orc to laugh a little. “Perhaps it would be better if you were protected against the spell as well, so you would not alert any spies that they have been made.”

“Thank you kindly.” He unlocks the chain and ties it behind his neck with a dazzling smile.

“I intend to provide every other member of your group with one, but they are hard to come by. Having them made in bulk in Rosohna would arouse suspicion, especially once my subordinates realize your group is slowly being blurred out, but I have sent messages to my contacts elsewhere. I have one as well,” he pulls back the collar of his mantle a bit to reveal a similar chain around his neck, “otherwise, I wouldn’t have dared to come visit.”

“That’s mighty generous of you,” Fjord says, still fiddling with the pendant, “but can I ask why?”

Several reasons, actually. One, it would stop anyone from discovering Essek’s treason, if the Nein happened to talk about it while they were being scryed on. Two, if he supplies the amulets himself, he can modify them beforehand so that they permit him to scry on them, but still block everybody else’s attempts; he would be able to keep an eye on them even if they decide that Essek is no longer worth their time. If he hadn't been in a rush this morning, he would have enchanted this one already, but he had thought it was better to deliver it as soon as possible. Three…

Essek looks at the ground. Next to him, his fingers have been subconsciously pulling at the grass, and there is a mess of broken stalks beneath his fist. “I have been haunted by the specter of discovery and death for the past three years. But now I find it is almost matched by the possibility of losing any of you. You are involved in complex political dealings, and these often demand secrecy, especially if one is intent on playing both sides. I have more resources than I know what to do with; this is just a way for me to give you some modicum of protection.”

Fjord places a hand on his arm. Even through three layers of clothing it feels uncomfortably warm, but he can’t bear to move away from it. He looks up to Fjord’s face, and the soft smile he finds there warms him and disquiets him even further.

“I’ll make sure the others accept them when you bring them. Thank you again, Essek.” He stands up and offers him a hand to help him up. Essek takes it in a moment of bravery, and hides the discomfort he feels when his skin makes contact with the half-orc’s. Although his grip is strong, Fjord pulls him up gently. Essek almost stumbles when he gets to his feet, but Fjord’s hand keeps him stable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if you're not logged in, your hits don't count. leave kudos so i know you read it! and comment, if you have a shred of kindness in your heart)


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